Three months later the Court did overrule Roe, and the regulation of abortion has been returned to the states where it had long been when the Court weighed in in 1973. Perhaps we can now have a more sober discussion about the meaning and force of the Ninth Amendment. To aid us, Anthony Sanders has written an important and timely guide to the amendment and, more fully, to similar amendments in state constitutions: Baby Ninth Amendments: How Americans Embraced Unenumerated Rights and Why It Matters, a rich account of these “etcetera clauses,” long included in many state constitutions and found today in the constitutions of two-thirds of the states.
Sanders is a senior attorney with the Institute for Justice, whose lawyers litigate a wide range of cases implicating unenumerated rights, especially against states whose regulations restrict economic liberty. He is also the director of IJ’s Center for Judicial Engagement, the ideological origins of which run back more than half a century when very few of us in the larger conservative-libertarian movement began questioning ongoing conservative attacks on the Warren and Burger Court’s “rights revolution.” Not that those attacks were never warranted, to be clear. But many, offered in the name of “judicial restraint,” seemed plainly inconsistent with a proper reading of a Constitution dedicated to liberty through limited government, to say nothing of a proper understanding of the role of judges under such a Constitution. Indeed, those conservative broadsides, we argued, were more consistent with the New Deal Court’s majoritarian reading of the Constitution, which opened the door to public policies and programs that conservatives were otherwise railing against.
Perhaps the most learned proponent of judicial restraint in the 1960s was Yale’s Alexander Bickel. Far from a man of the right, Bickel was a small “d” democrat who was concerned about the legitimacy of judicial review itself. Thus his focus on the “countermajoritarian difficulty” and the judiciary’s “passive virtues” (as if the Framers had not thought long and hard about the majoritarian difficulty). Bickel’s Yale colleague Robert Bork, schooled in Chicago’s law and economics tradition and destined to be the very embodiment of the conservative view, would credit Bickel “more than anyone else” with teaching him about the Constitution. In 1987, therefore, when the Senate Judiciary Committee was probing Bork about the Ninth Amendment during hearings for his nomination for the Supreme Court, it was no surprise that he would respond with something like his now famous inkblot answer: “If you had an amendment that says ‘Congress shall make no’ and then there is an inkblot and you cannot read the rest of it and that is the only copy you have, I do not think the court can make up what might be under the inkblot if you cannot read it.”
The analogy was inapt. The Ninth Amendment is written in plain English. Despite what some scholars have argued, we know what it says and what it is supposed to do, for there is a record of the debates that led to its inclusion in the Bill of Rights. And we now have a book detailing the sixty-six occasions running over nearly two centuries on which Americans have drafted and ratified state constitutions that include “Baby Ninths” (so christened, Sanders notes, by Professor John Yoo in “Our Declaratory Ninth Amendment”). But even without those records, the similar wording of those many etcetera clauses, over and over, speaks volumes: those texts are not so opaque or abstruse that we cannot read and understand what they plainly say. We must assume, therefore, that they were not written and ratified to be ignored; yet that, precisely, is what federal and state judges have mostly done for most of our constitutional history.
Those are the issues and that is the disconnect that this book discusses. “The story is mostly historical, partly theoretical, but at bottom it is practical,” Sanders writes. “It is a story of Americans recognizing the dangers that governments pose and expansively shackling those governments into the future.” We have done that through constitutions that not only grant power but say also what governments “shall not” do. Their etcetera clauses state plainly that rights not enumerated in a constitution shall not be “denied, disparaged, or impaired.” And because they are found in written constitutions, it falls to the judiciary to enforce them, just as is done with clauses protecting enumerated rights.
Sanders begins by reviewing relevant English constitutional and American colonial history, focusing finally on the Virginia Constitution of June 1776 and George Mason’s Declaration of Rights, which included our first unenumerated rights clause—a provision that would soon influence other state constitutions and, not least, the Declaration of Independence. Through constitutional conventions that established the “higher law” of a constitution and the sovereignty of the people, this constitution drafting would continue in the states during the Revolutionary War and after. Thus, by 1787, as it became clear that we needed a more perfect union, the idea of an etcetera clause was not novel.